


The Last Human Kingdom

by miss_aphelion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, M/M, Magic, Mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2179773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_aphelion/pseuds/miss_aphelion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was almost a perfect world, except for the hunters. The hunters were the new boogieman, the scary story told over the campfire. They were seen as heartless, soulless creatures. They had no mercy, no hesitation, no remorse. </p>
<p>Hunters were the villains now. </p>
<p>(Or Stiles is one of the only humans in the Beacon Hills Pack, trying to hold his own against rogue hunters and overprotective fathers and lovesick best friends alike)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Alliance

**Author's Note:**

> I started this forever ago based on [this prompt](http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/7250.html?thread=6750290), and I'm posting it to motivate myself into finishing it. I'm probably balancing way too many WIPs at the moment, but too little sleep and too much caffeine will do that to me.

_He was nine years old when he first heard Peter Hale speak._

_It was the Hales that put Beacon Hills on the map. The Stilinskis had been there forever, steadily pushing ahead, but they liked to keep to themselves. The Stilinski pack was deceptively strong and cunning, and counted on being underestimated. Hales were nothing like that at all._

_The Hales, everyone knew, were the most dangerous pack in the country._

_They came barreling into their small little town and everything changed overnight. They built up their mansion at the edge of the preserve, and held court there like Kings. Arthur was the Alpha's name, which Stiles thought appropriate, though hardly anyone ever saw him._

_Peter Hale was the one always sent out to the crowds, because he was young, and charming, and known for saying exactly the right thing._

_Stiles had been holding his mother's hand right in front of the stage, both of them dwarfed by his father's guards. It was the day of the alliance between their packs, and everyone was cheering and celebrating. Everyone knew the Hales were **invincible** , so maybe now they were too. _

_Peter spoke of new beginnings, of starting again. His sweet, slick voice rolling over the crowd like a balm. In private his father called him a sly son of a bitch and too smart for his own good, but Stiles liked him. Stiles was too smart sometimes too._

_As he stood there he felt like Peter was talking to him, and people usually didn't. He was too little, he was too fragile, he was too **human**. His father always said his mother was the strongest person he ever knew, but he wasn't, Stiles had learned, talking about physical strength—because he never let them go anywhere without an escort. They were always protected. _

_Peter talked about a world where no one had to be protected, because there was nothing to fear. He put his vision before them as clear as if he'd painted it on a canvas, his wide easy smile slipping up after every word._

_"Just you watch, baby, those Hales are going to do great things for this town," his mother had told him, before kissing him on the nose. "And so will you."_

_His mother died two weeks later, and the doctors never did figure out why._

_Most patients these days just healed themselves._

**Seven Years Later**

"This is a bad idea," Scott says warily.

Stiles shuts off the Jeep and gives him a look of disgust. "Where's your sense of adventure?" he asks. 

"We have school tomorrow," Scott says. "And I was going to try out for Lacrosse." 

"Why, so we can sit on the bench another year?" Stiles demands. He isn't allowed to play Lacrosse with werewolves, and since he's the _only_ human at the school—well, there's Lydia, but Stiles is not at all convinced she's human—he usually ends up stuck on the sidelines with a clipboard. 

Scott could play, except no one wants him to. He's good, but all werewolves are pretty much by default. Jackson and Danny and even Greenberg are better, and Stiles is getting sick of going through this every year. 

"Scott, we cannot live our lives on the sidelines," Stiles insists. "We have to be brave! We have to explore, and learn, and be magnificent!" 

"And how, exactly, is searching the woods for a dead body going to do that for us?" Scott asks.

"I don't know," Stiles says, as he pushes out of the Jeep. "Maybe we'll catch a murderer." 

"What if a murderer catches _us_?" Scott demands. 

"Also a possibility," Stiles agrees cheerfully. "I've thought of that. In that case, you, you know, take him down." 

"And if your father catches us?" Scott asks. 

"Then I'll be grounded for the rest of my life," Stiles says, snapping on his flashlight and starting into the trees. "So let's not get caught." 

"Because that always works out so well," Scott says sullenly.  
'  
Stiles can't even argue that, because he almost always gets caught. It's not that he doesn't think things through, like Scott says, it's just because he's surrounded by freakin' werewolves and their freaky werewolf senses. He has to work twice as hard as anyone else to try and achieve deception—it's not easy being sixteen with a dad that has a built in lie detector and is the Alpha of half the town. 

"Seriously, Stiles," Scott says. "He threatened to home school you the last time." 

Ah, the last time. Stiles remembers it fondly. He'd slipped his bodyguards—Thing 1, and Thing 2—and then snuck into the park after hours with Scott and a bottle of homemade moonshine. He and Lydia had cooked it up in her basement out of curiosity. They were two of the only people in Beacon Hills that could get properly drunk, and it wasn't like they sold liquor at the corner store anymore. 

His father had found him splayed out on the concrete singing _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_. He had not been amused. 

"This is nothing like last time," Stiles decides. "I'm not drunk. I'm fully functioning." 

"But you have taken too much Adderall," Scott chides. 

Stiles glares at him. "Stop sniffing me," he demands. 

"Well, you did," Scott insists, but nevertheless drags himself out of the Jeep to follow him. "So what are we really doing here?" 

"I overheard my father talking to one of his betas," Stiles says. "They found an omega out here." 

"If they found the body already, then why can't I go back to sleep?" Scott whines. 

"They only found _half_ of it," Stiles says. "That means, you know, theoretically, half of it should still be lying around somewhere. So, you know. Do your werewolf thing. Find it." 

Scott makes a face. "I don't want to," he says. "I don't know what a dead body smells like, and I think it's probably better that way." 

"Okay, stay here then," Stiles says. "I'll find it myself." 

Scott rolls his eyes but takes off after him. "Yeah, like I can let you go off by yourself," he says. 

"I'm perfectly capable of handling myself," Stiles says. "Despite what you, and pretty much everyone else in this town, thinks." 

"I know, but…" Scott trails off, looking away guiltily. 

Stiles would be mad at him, but he knows Scott doesn't mean anything by it. Their friendship has had a slightly uneven slant ever since they were seven years old and Scott accidentally broke Stiles' arm. They'd just been playing at the time, wrestling over one toy or another. Stiles still remembers Melissa sitting Scott down to try and explain he had to be _careful_ with Stiles.

The worst part about it all was how well Scott had listened. He's always careful with Stiles now. 

"Whatever," Stiles says. "Come with me then, just stop complaining. We could be making history right now." 

"I'm pretty sure we're not," Scott says, but it wasn't technically complaining, so Stiles lets it slide. 

Stiles frowns as he sees something ahead of them. It looks like a splash of blood, tinting a yellow fall leaf red. He starts to move towards it and Scott grabs his arm. 

"They're here," he hisses. "Your father and his team." 

"Shit," Stiles says, he glances up and even he can see them. Their flashlights are spinning through the air like fireflies as they approach fast, obviously having heard them. "Run, Scott. Save yourself." 

"Stiles," Scott says, looking conflicted. 

"There's no reason for both of us to get in trouble," Stiles reasons. "I brought you into this, so it's only fair that I get you out of it." He pushes Scott in the other direction. "Go!" 

Scott nods once and then he's shifting and disappearing in the opposite direction. Stiles barely has time to even turn around and his father is right in front of him, half-shifted, his eyes blazing red. Stiles winces as John grabs his arm to pull him closer, but he knows even like this, even fully shifted on a full moon—his father would never hurt him. 

But there were lots of other inconvenient things he could do to him. Like groundings, and home-schooling, and _no Scott_. 

His father's betas fan out around him, trapping him in like prey. He recognizes the formation from his textbook _Wolves At War_ , and thinks wryly of the passage _formed in an effort to disorient their prey and spook them into running, so they can give chase_.

Stiles knows far, far better than to try and run. He's not as fast as Scott.

"Dad, hi," he says, attempting to toss him an innocent grin. "Fancy seeing you here. In the woods. At night."

"What the hell do you think you're doing here, Stiles?" John growls, though he loosens his grip slightly when he hears Stiles' heart stutter. 

It's not that he's really _scared_ , it's just that his father never yells at him. He just uses his disappointed voice, and then guilts him into behaving. This is new territory. "I just—" Stiles stutters, because it's suddenly becoming clear that he's stumbled onto something much bigger than he had believed. 

"When I left you were in bed," he snaps, though he finally shifts back so his eyes bleed from red to blue. "Where you were safe."

"Dad, I only—" Stiles starts, but then John waves a hand dismissively and cuts him off.

"Oh, believe me, I want to hear whatever excuse it is you have, but right now I want your ass back home in bed," he says. "We'll talk about this in the morning." 

"Okay, yeah, good," Stiles says, letting out a breath at this unexpected stay of execution. "So I'll just be going then." 

He tries to step away and his father's grip tightens. John whistles and motions one of his betas forward. Stiles sighs when he sees it's Finstock—probably the only other person in Beacon Hills that talks as much as him. 

"Dad, please, no," Stiles starts, but John just hands his arm over to Finstock like he's passing the TV remote. 

"Take him home," he says to Finstock. "And this time, make sure he stays there." 

"Got it, boss," Finstock says, forming a sloppy salute before tugging Stiles towards the road. Finstock laughs a little once they're out of earshot of his father. "You are in so much trouble." 

"As my coach, I feel you should be more professional than this," Stiles says primly. 

"Nah, you're just the manager," Finstock dismisses. 

"Fair enough," Stiles says.

"Anyway, your father keeps giving these little errands to me," Finstock says. "I have to get my enjoyment where I can. I think he hates me or something." 

"No, he hates me. He probably keeps giving you these jobs because Whittemore is a pompous ass and Harris is a tool, so you're the only one he trusts," Stiles says. 

"Huh," Finstock says, and flashes a grin. "Yeah, you're probably right. Thanks, kid. That helps." 

"Are you grateful enough to turn your head as I sneak off in the opposite direction?" Stiles asks hopefully.

"Not a chance," Finstock says. 

"Well, it was a worth a shot." Stiles heaves a sigh as Finstock resumes dragging him back home, and hopes that his father doesn't find Scott in the woods. 

As it turns out, his father doesn't—Allison Argent finds him instead.


	2. The Hunter Code

_Nous Chassons ceux qui nous chassent_

_Hunters were honorable once—they were the heroes of the story. The trouble was, his father had told him, all the honorable ones ended up joining with the packs until the only hunters left were the ones that only understood how to kill._

_The code was something of a joke, these days. A little footnote in the history books. Werewolves never spilled blood anymore, or at least, they never did so with greater frequency than humans had when they were in charge._

_The packs brought peace, more than anything. Everyone had family now, a support system to fall back on. There were always omegas, but they were omegas by choice. Almost anyone could petition to join or change packs, and they were rarely denied._

_It was almost a perfect world, except for the hunters. The hunters were the new boogieman, the scary story told over the campfire. They were seen as heartless, soulless creatures. They had no mercy, no hesitation, no remorse._

_Hunters were the villains now._

 

Stiles burst out of his room, taking the stairs two at a time before leaping off to go crashing into the front door. He pulls it open, breathing heavily, just as Scott is lifting his hand to knock. He reaches out to drag Scott in, waving innocently at the two guards at the front gate, who had begun approaching the moment he opened the doors. 

He rolls his eyes and then pushes Scott up the stairs. As soon as the door shuts behind them, he closes his eyes and lifts his barrier spells into place. 

"Ow," Scott complains, holding his hands to his ears for a moment and then shaking his head. "Are you doing magic again?" 

"Dude," Stiles snaps, "I live entirely with werewolves. If I didn't have some semblance of privacy, I'd go nuts." 

Scott makes a face and then drops down into Stiles' desk chair. 

"Also, oh my god," Stiles yells. "What happened to you last night? My dad totally didn't believe me that you weren't there, they were looking for you all over the place and did you just not get my _eight million messages_?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, sorry?" Scott says. "I kind of met someone." 

"You met someone," Stiles repeats incredulously. "Scott, you were in the middle of a forest." 

"I know," Scott says, and he gets a dreamy expression on his face that makes him look sort of drugged. "It was like she walked out of a dream." 

"Are you sure it wasn't?" Stiles asks suspiciously. "A dream, I mean." 

"Yes!" Scott says at once, and then his eyes lose focus again. "I couldn't have made up something as perfect as her. She's human! Her name is Allison." 

"She's…wait…okay, that's sort of awesome!" Stiles says. "That would be so cool to have another human around. She can't have joined our pack, though, I'd know. Is she with the Hales?" 

Scott looks suddenly twitchy. "She didn't, exactly, you know, smell like a pack," he hedges. "She might not have one." 

"What? Tell me you're not that stupid, Scott!" Stiles shouts. "She's got to be a hunter. You're lucky to be alive." 

"There are still humans that live outside of packs and are completely peaceful," Scott insists. "Like…in Tibet! Those monks!" 

"Great argument," Stiles says. "Except this is California, and if you meet a human without a pack here they're a hunter _trying to kill you_." 

"Then why didn't she?" Scott demands.

"I don't know, maybe she was busy with other stuff," Stiles says. 

"Like what?" Scott asks. 

"Well, we were out in the woods looking for half a body," Stiles says. "Half a body, Scott." 

"Um, not sure where you're going with this," Scott says. 

"Well, who cuts people in half?" Stiles shouts in exasperation. "Hunters, that's who. My dad's been trying to keep it under wraps, but it's obvious it was them. They've never been this close to us before, and it's got him really nervous." 

"You really think hunters are around here?" Scott asks, moving the window with a frown. 

"Yes," Stiles says. "Seriously, I've never seen my dad like this. He was yelling at me. And you know my dad, he never yells at me." 

"Welcome to my world," Scott says dryly. "My mom yells at me all the time." 

"Well, my dad doesn't, and I like it that way," Stiles says. "Now I'm under house arrest. House arrest, Scott! That's not just like, a cute little spin on words when your father's the Alpha. It's like, actual house arrest."

Scott isn't listening, because he's got that dreamy look in its eyes again. "She wants to meet me again." 

"Dude, have you not listened to a word that I've said?" Stiles demands. "She's a hunter. She wants to kill you." 

"She's really pretty," Scott insists. "She smells like lilacs." 

"Are you brain damaged?" Stiles asks. "Did she put a spell on you? It's a trap! This would be why she didn't kill you last night." 

"It's not a trap!" Scott says. "I love her, and I need you to cover for me tonight. I told my mom I'm staying here."

"No way!" Stiles says. "You're not going." 

"How many times have a I covered for you?" Scott demands. 

"That's not the point!" Stiles says. "If you were going to a party, I'd cover for you. Going off to meet someone that wants you dead? No, I don't think so." 

"So come with me," Scott says. 

"There's a couple problems with that plan," Stiles says. "One, that would probably just, you know, result in both of us being dead instead of just you. And two, I told you, I'm under house arrest." 

"That's never stopped you before," Scott says. 

"Yeah, well, my dad's never gone this crazy before," Stiles said. "Didn't you notice all of the extra security?" 

"Huh?" Scott asks, glancing out the window. "Oh, yeah. I guess there are a lot new guys." 

"And you're wondering why you're failing Werewolf Skills," Stiles says. 

"I still don't understand how you're _not_ ," Scott complains. 

"Because I only have to do the written. You're great at the actual physical tests, though," Stiles tells him. "If we were combined into one person, we'd be unstoppable." 

"But what would we call ourselves?" Scott asks. "Sciles? Stott?" 

"I don't think coming up with a new name would be the biggest hurdle in that master plan," Stiles says dryly. 

"Yeah, I guess," Scott agrees, before squinting out at the guard. "Hey, isn't that …? He's one of your dad's top betas. Isn't he sort of overreacting locking you up like this?" 

"I'd like to say he is," Stiles says. "But you were just asking me to sneak out five minutes ago and I actually do have a notebook of escape plans." 

"Good point," Scott says. "So…you have one that might work?" 

"No," Stiles says. "I'm serious, Scott. You can't do this. You're going to get yourself killed." 

"She's not like that," Scott says. "If you would just meet her, you'd understand. Come on, Stiles. I do everything for you. I went out searching for bodies in the middle of the night. Just cover for me, just this once." 

Stiles groans. "Okay, fine," he says. "But I'm not letting you go alone." 

"How are you going to get out of here?" Scott asks. "No offense, or anything, but all your guards are werewolves." 

"Yes, but they're also used to me spelling my room so they can't hear or smell me," Stiles says, grabbing his red hoodie and pulling it on. "So they might not sound the alarm the moment I get off their radar. Anyway, I've been wanting to try my new charms." 

"What new charms?" Scott asks. 

Stiles grabs a couple of necklaces and pulls them over his head, before promptly disappearing. 

"Stiles?" Scott yells. "Stiles, where did you go?"

"Still here," Stiles says, as he pulls off the necklaces. "This just makes me invisible to supernatural creatures. Which, you know, is 99.9% of the Beacon Hills population, so practically invisible." 

"That is so cool," Scott shouts. "Why didn't you tell me that you were working on this?" 

"It was kind of a secret project," Stiles says. "I haven't properly tested it yet, but it's the only thing that's going to get me out of those gates. You head out, and I'll slip out right behind you." 

"Okay, but keep this on the whole time, okay?" Scott says. "I don't want Allison to see you until I talk to her." 

Stiles gives a long-suffering sigh. "It only works on werewolves, Scott," he reminds him. 

"Right," Scott says. "Oh! Right. Yeah, okay. But just stay out of sight." 

Scott manages to lead them out, but only just barely. He nearly blows their cover by stating, 'yep, it's just me, here, leaving by myself' to the guards. Stiles can't really get mad about it though, since everything Scott knows about lying he learned from him. 

Once they're far enough into the woods Stiles drags the necklaces off again, since Scott can't even hear him speak while he's charmed and he can't go any longer without speaking. "It's not too late to turn back," Stiles says. 

"You'll understand when you see her," Scott says. "She's beautiful." 

"Where are we even going?" Stiles demands, frowning as he spins around, taking note of the trees. "I don't recognize this place." 

"We're out of the preserve, technically no longer within Beacon Hills," Scott admits. 

Stiles pulls to a halt. "Hold it," he hisses. "You mean you lead us out of our territory? Have you completely lost your mind? We're fair game out here, Scott!" 

"She's not a hunter," Scott insists. 

"It all makes sense now," Stiles says. "She let you go last night because she figured out you were stupid enough to lure outside of your territory. Now when they slaughter us they can claim we were rouges." 

"You're human, Stiles, you can't be rogue," Scott reminds him. 

"I could be roguish," Stiles protests. "I could be rogue-like." 

"It's going to be fine," Scott says. "Trust me." 

"We're at the edge of the forest," Stiles says uneasily. "I don't like this. I've never been out this far." 

"Your father barely lets you out of the mansion," Scott says. "This should be a good experience for you." 

"We come out into the woods all the time!" Stiles says. "We just, you know, stay in the part where we won't be horribly massacred. And I'm okay with that." 

"Shh," Scott whispers, and tugs Stiles behind a large tree. "Stay here, I hear her. Just, stay out of sight, okay? Whatever happens. The pack would probably throw me out if I let anything happen to you." 

"Now you're worried?" Stiles hisses back.

"Shh," Scott says again, before skipping back into view. 

Stiles bites his lip to hold back a protest as he sees a girl, Allison presumably, approaching. He tries to look for anyone else in the distance but sees no one. 

"Allison!" Scott says happily. 

"Scott," she says, smiling slightly, and Stiles narrows his eyes. She looks nervous. If Stiles could, he would smack Scott over the head, because he's a freakin' werewolf so how is he not noticing this?

"I wasn't sure you would come," she continues, sticking her hands into the pockets of her sweater. 

"Of course," Scott says. "I missed you." 

Allison smiles sweetly, and nods her head. "I missed you too," she says. "I was actually hoping you would come with me. To meet my family." 

"Say no," Stiles whispers. "Come on, Scott. No. Say no." 

"That sounds great," Scott says, and Stiles slams his head into the tree trunk.

Stiles curses as Allison takes Scott's hand and leads him out the edge of the forest. He carefully moves after them, his mouth dropping open as he catches sight of a city just outside the trees. He knows this place was condemned ages ago, and the warehouses boarded up. It's bustling now, with kids playing outside, and men with guns standing guard on the rooftops. Colorful flags are placed everywhere— _Hunter's flags_. 

"Scott," Stiles shouts, moving out from his cover. 

Allison glances back and then tugs Scott into the boundaries of the city. Stiles gasps as he feels something snap between him and them. Scott tries to step back towards him, but he can't seem to take a step forward. _Mountain ash_. 

"Shit," Stiles curses, glancing towards Scott and then back the way he came. 

"Stiles, run!" Scott shouts, as two men grab Scott's arms to drag him back. 

"Oh, you so owe me, Scott," Stiles says to himself, because he _can't run_ , at least not in the direction he's supposed to. Stiles starts towards the city, but he doesn't make it far before someone is grabbing him from behind. A hand wraps across his mouth and drags him back into the trees. He pushes against them, but there's no give. 

He spills to the ground when his captor finally releases him, and he pushes himself over onto his back so he can look up. 

His captor turns out to be a pretty brunette, tall and smug, but she's not a hunter. Stiles has lived with werewolves all his life, so by this point he knows one when sees one. 

"If you go in there, you're not getting back out," she says, raising an eyebrow. "And here I'd heard you were clever." 

"Who are you?" Stiles asks, because she's definitely not one of his pack. His pack may be one of the most ridiculously large ones around, but everyone still knows everyone. 

"Laura Hale," she says, holding out a hand to help him up. 

Stiles takes it reluctantly, recognizing the resemblance as she pulls him up. All of the Hales were tall, dark and drop dead gorgeous. "You're a Hale," he says. 

"Yes," Laura says. "And if I let you go in there, your father would probably break his alliance with us. We'd probably have a pack war. Is that what you want?" 

"Of course not," Stiles says. "So how about we don't tell him?" 

"You can't be this stupid," Laura says. 

"I'd like to think I'm not," Stiles says. "But I'm not sure I've got a real great case for it." 

Laura laughs. "Kid, I think I like you," she says, "Also, you're going to be just the ice-breaker I need." 

"Come again?" Stiles says. "Ice-breaker?" 

"Yeah," Laura says. "I've been trying to get an audience with your father. Think he'll talk to me if I show up with you in toe?" 

Stiles laughs uneasily, wrapping his hands around the necklaces. He starts to raise them and Laura grabs his wrist, dragging them out of his grip. "Charms?" she asks. "I hadn't heard you were magic." 

"Me?" Stiles asks, shrugging. "Nah, not me." 

Laura laughs again, grabbing Stiles' arm and starting to drag him back towards his territory. "I hope you're better at lying than that," she says. "Because if you don't come up with a really good story, your father's not going to be very happy with you." 

That was pretty much the understatement of his life.


End file.
